


21

by a5xa7 (CastelloFlare)



Series: the runner's romance [4]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst, Husbands, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 22:17:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5432810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastelloFlare/pseuds/a5xa7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bottle of wine, a view from a cliff, and a pair of husbands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	21

His blazer left in his car and a single wine bottle in his hand, Minho trudged up the grassy slope towards the cliff, all the while cursing why he didn't change his stuffy leather shoes for sneakers back in the office. With his free hand, he loosened his tie and undid the first two buttons of his shirt, ran his hand over his hair to mess up the corporate 'do that he honestly didn't quite get used to, even after all these years.

Shadows of the few trees around him danced before his eyes. Above him the sky was a brilliant mixture of red, orange, purple, and blue, reminiscent of the day he'd proposed, on that place atop the cliff, where every anniversary was spent together. Not too long after, he was met with the salty smell of the sea, the sun halfway through its descent on the reflective ocean surface. A ball of fire and an entire body of water, colliding, engulfing the other. Like the way he was with his lover.

His lover, his friend, his partner -- standing right where he would always find him, atop the bluff, also staring at the same horizon as he. Honey-colored hair and pale skin streaked with crimson and dark blue by the sky, a smile gingerly set on his lips as he turned around to face Minho.

Newt always looked beautiful, ethereal. All these years together, and Minho fell for him every time.

"Out of breath, aren't we?" Newt said, taking slow steps towards his lover. "Was it the climb, or was that me taking your breath away again?"

Minho rolled his eyes, yet he smiled. Somewhere along the way, Newt had developed the habbit of predicting Minho's cheesy one-liners and redirecting it to him like this. To others, he might come off as conceited, but to Minho it was very much endearing.

"It's always you," he said, now standing face to face with Newt. "And, friendly reminder that I was more of a runner than a climber."

"You did more climbing than running, back in college," Newt said fondly, his eyes looking back at a time that was out of reach, yet always theirs. "Remember how Alby just gave up one day and left the window open so you could easily climb up our dorm room after-hours?"

"And we were out of breath almost every night -- for different reasons," Minho chuckled. After a month of putting up with them, Alby had finally made the necessary arrangements for them to exchange rooms, something a lot of people were quite thankful for.

"The stamina of young people," Newt said, returning his gaze back at the setting sun. Minho took his place beside him and they both sat on the grass.

"Sorry it's just another wine bottle this time," Minho said as he uncorked the said bottle with his teeth. "With the way things are at work I hardly ever have time to go home nowadays. Could've prepared something nice."

"It's okay, I understand, my big man's on his way to a promotion anyway," Newt said, a loving look in his eyes and an expression Minho has memorized again and again. "Good thing Theo and Saorise are already in university."

"Yeah," Minho chuckled. "Now it's just me and, occasionally, that tubby cat from next door. Guess she keeps forgetting her favorite kids to torment are gone."

"They were quite fond of that Miss Tabitha, weren't they?"

"Oh, a real joy to have around." Minho rolled his eyes.

Newt shook his head, and chuckled. "Can you believe it? I was just guiding Theo through his first steps, and now he's guiding his sister in college. I'm still like... _Wow._ We did alright with those kids."

"We sure did, Papa," Minho said ruefully, nostalgia creeping up his senses. He raised the wine bottle between them. "To twenty one years."

"Happy Anniversary, my better half," Newt said quietly, lovingly, and ghosted a kiss on Minho's forehead. Minho felt the warmth spread, from where the kiss was planted, to every physical part of him, to his very soul. How lucky he was to have loved, and be loved by this man. So lucky to have known this kind of love, the intensity of which blasted him sky high.

And yet, even without physics to guide him, he learned the hard way, just how painful the impact was when you abruptly fall from that height.

"The kids miss you," Minho whispered. "We don't talk about it anymore, but I know they do."

Newt looked at him, a pained expression on his face. Minho understood. But he couldn't help himself. He took a swig of the wine, but the bitterness never seemed to go away.

" _I_ miss you," Minho continued, his voice even lower. "I see you everywhere. Walking by the river as I drive to work... outside the window of my office, playing with the birds... even buying ingredients for our kids' lunch when I'm out doing groceries myself. I have imaginary conversations with you as well. Just like this."

Beside him, Newt's appearance was beginning to transform -- blood dripped from his forehead. A big ugly bruise and gash was forming on his right cheek where shards of the broken windshield cut him. More blood pooled inside his mouth and gushed like a waterfall to his shirt-- this image was the last glimpse Minho had of him, both of them hanging upsidedown and held only by their respective seatbelts, as he was losing consciousness himself after the car crash, his mind just going _No, no, no, no..._

Bloodied and bruised, his imaginary husband had gone silent, still looking at him with an expression so haunting and full of hurt and regret and dead promises. Minho shut his eyes, and looked away.

Above him, the sky had turned dark, traces of the recent sunset evident only in scarlet streaks across the black and blue, reminiscent of the first night he spent without Newt, on that place atop the cliff where he had proposed. And every year still, on their anniversary, he'd make the climb, where Newt would always be waiting, but never to take him.

Minho breathed heavily and slowly turned back to where Newt was. But even with a little alcohol in his system, his imagination had left him. There was no Newt. There never had been, for four years now.

He took another swig of the wine, and got up. With heavy legs and an even heavier heart, he trudged towards the cliff.

He had always thought about it -- take the easy way back to Newt. It was always there, the big expanse of land and then nothing but air and space and the roaring of the waves. To hell with the promotion that only served as a momentary goal to fill his mind. He was done pretending. He was done longing for someone he once held, but could never hold once again.

"Minho."

Even when his imagination didn't permit him to see Newt anymore, he could hear his voice as if he was right behind him. Tantalizing, yet unreal.

"Minho."

The imaginary voice called again, with more intensity. _Yes, Newt, I am coming over to your side._

"You bloody shank, when did you ever learn to listen?"

Only a couple of steps to nothingness, Minho froze. Newt had never used those words, let alone that tone with him, in _his_ hallucinatory moments. This was the version of Newt he didn't have any control or direction over. He turned around.

"Bloody hell, finally." Clean and free of wounds and bathed in some heavenly light, Newt rolled his eyes at him. He reached an ethereal hand at him. "Now come back here, will you?"

Minho blinked. Newt was still there. He thought it was probably the wine, but between them it was Newt who had very low tolerance for alcohol. He blinked once more.

"Speechless, aren't we? Did you bite your tongue, or do I always have that effect on you?"

 _Oh my god._ It was definitely...

"Newt," Minho gasped, as if calling his husband's name out loud was akin to saying a prayer. The bottle fell from his hand, and rolled down the slope. It stopped just near Newt's feet.

"Yeah, it's me." The look on Newt's eyes softened, the same way he always did when he woke up in the middle of the night and saw Minho just staring at him in the moonlight. "Now, slowly, come back here beside me."

"If I do that," Minho said, his words feeling like stones lodged in his throat, "Wouldn't I just be farther from you again?"

Newt's hand fell back to his side, his expression painful, yet understanding. He slowly made his way up to Minho, leaving a trail of transcient light in his wake.

"You big idiot," his voice was nothing more than a whisper, yet full of love. "When have we ever been apart?"

Newt reached out and took Minho's hands in his. This time, it didn't feel like just a ghost of a touch, like the wind kissing his palms -- there was warmth and electricity that flowed from where they made contact, and ignited a fire that thawed out his already cold heart. The ring he always wore in his left hand, and Newt's ring, which he kept chained around his neck, also grew warm on his skin. He shuddered. As impossible as it seemed, he had never felt so alive again.

"You never left," Minho said. It wasn't a question, but a realization.

"I miss you," Newt said quietly, gently pulling him back away from the edge. "But you cannot follow me just yet. Not like this."

"Newt..."

"And if you leave our kids fatherless, I would never forgive you," Newt's hands travelled up and cradled Minho's cheeks. His eyes burned with such intensity like they did when he spent an entire night scouring for and trying out soup recipes when Theo was down with his first flu. "Be there when they graduate. Be there when they find someone just as we found each other. Be there when they marry. And never forget, I will be there with you as much as you are for them. I am always watching over you three."

Despite the tears pooling in his eyes, Minho smiled. It was as if they were exchanging a new set of vows, not rewriting them, but adding to the list of things they'd do for the other.

"Do you promise that?" Newt said, pressing their foreheads together. Minho caught the sweet scent of early morning cuddles, of jumping on piles of autumn leaves, of Sunday Smores with the kids -- a whiff of nostalgia and everything good in his life.

"Yeah," he whispered, his lips hovering over Newt's. "I do."

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been writing fluffy first meetings of these guys, but I've also wanted to write some sads?? Also, thank you to everyone, for reading my minewt drabbles! Much love.
> 
> Also on yaoitrashbag.tumblr.com


End file.
